


The Game Begins (where you are)

by MeetTheRoyalMess



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: (but they're in a completely different universe without gungi), Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, F/M, First Meetings, Fluff, Human!Meruem, Implied Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:01:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27480874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeetTheRoyalMess/pseuds/MeetTheRoyalMess
Summary: She thinks her luck might turn when her first attempt to contribute to her family is a sudden and unexpected success. It is the outcome of her decision to utilize her uselessness and love of games. It is the product of hours spent drenched in chronic loneliness and the echoes of her family’s laughter. The game is called King. And Komugi, despite knowing its popularity is what feeds her family through the winter, does not feel satisfied with it.~In which Komugi is a simple farm girl who creates games for a living and Meruem is a new worker that disrupts her normalcy in the best way possible.
Relationships: Komugi/Meruem
Comments: 9
Kudos: 55
Collections: MeruKomu Madness





	The Game Begins (where you are)

**Author's Note:**

> I know this is simpler than my usual writing style but I sat down and wrote this in two sittings so that's to be expected. I also think it works better for this fic. Either way, I kind of like it.
> 
> I wrote this for the two friends who watch the Meruem and Komugi death scene when they want to feel something. They made me suffer but that's okay! Because now I can make them cry with fluff :')
> 
> Hope you enjoy this short thing!

Komugi has always adored puzzles and games.

They’re tangible, something she alone has control over in her little corner of the world. She loves the glide of tiles across the wood, the quiet noise of pieces slipping into the correct spot. It fills her with some sort of purpose and gives her a short-term ambition to strive for. She may never be able to see the picture she’s made with the puzzles nor the strategies she carries out, but they are present in her mind’s eye and upon her fingertips, which is plenty for her.

Eventually though, Komugi draws towards tabletop games more. Bringing puzzles outside decreased her margin of error. The pieces are just small enough to slip through the cracks of their porch and drop into the crawl space beneath. Her parents don’t like the idea of her going where she could possibly get trapped or hurt and asking for someone’s help during their working hours is out of the question. Their dining table is her best option, but she has to clear it for dinner every night, making multi-day projects impossible.

So, despite having to play as both participants, Komugi takes to sitting outside where the breeze can tickle her cheeks, creating games in the dirt. 

All alone; her siblings never seemed interested in joining her even after the work day was done. A few of them would go as far as to hiss _we don’t get the luxury of sitting around all day._

Komugi knows they aren’t wrong; with as many mouths to feed as they have, her siblings have to work tirelessly in the fields of their quaint farm to maintain their two-meals-per-day diet. The truth of the statement doesn’t sting any less though. Her family is disjointed and unfitting in her life even though she loves them dearly. To them, she is far too frail, sickly, weak to help. Her place has never quite settled within the confinements of their small house. 

And all Komugi wants— _longs—_ to do is find her place.

She thinks her luck might turn when her first attempt to contribute to her family is a sudden and unexpected success. It is the outcome of her decision to utilize her uselessness and love of games. It is the product of hours spent drenched in chronic loneliness and the echoes of her family’s laughter. The game is called _King._ And Komugi, despite knowing its popularity is what feeds her family through the winter, does not feel satisfied with it.

 _King_ is a simple title for a simple game, well-suited for children to play with on their own and without much instruction or supervision of their parents. However, the victory somehow seems empty. To be quite blunt, it’s _boring._ At least for Komugi.

But if the paycheck is enough to sate the cold indifference of her family, it’s enough for her to set aside her preferences. For now. 

(Her goal remains the same.)

Thus, she carries on with life creating small games for children and never once spending a cent of her own profits. She is both restless and at ease, constantly creating and pondering the systematic strategies that she could employ in her newest project.

“We’re hiring someone to help around here,” her mother tells her one day. It’s a random thing for her to say but the sudden rush of soothing relief washing over Komugi is more than enough to keep her distracted. Her success is coming to fruition, in a way that would start to take the physical burden from the family.

Komugi nods, letting out a soft sigh as she places the next piece of silverware on the table. Her mother continues from her place at the stove. “Your father and I have already talked with him and worked everything out. It should work if we compile all our money and our harvest is as good as we expect it to be.” 

The skillet grates against the stove top roughly. Komugi grits her teeth at the sound. “Oh, that’s great! I’ll still be allowed to go outside with him here, right?”

Her mother’s hesitance is palpable. But Fate gives her a slight taste of luck. “I suppose.”

Komugi’s shoulders slump as she expels all the stressful tension stored there. Her parents don’t really like her being around others in the paranoia that they will somehow be able to harm her. (She’s suddenly starkly aware of the fact that her only friends are the old wooden game pieces long since worn from her constant care.)

The worker, she is informed, will arrive after her next paycheck. Komugi wonders when she’ll be able to meet him. It’s not every day she has an opportunity to interact with a non family member. Maybe the change will be a cure to the monotonous drag of the long hours she spent without another soul to talk to.

Their first day on the farm, Komugi doesn’t meet them. She does hear about them vaguely at dinner that night, but the details were brushed over in favor of shoveling the nearest food item intently into their mouths. She swallows her disappointment and crawls into bed with a pout on her lips. 

Soon, the worker is old news and her family hardly mentions him at all. Komugi does find out little things through half-thoughts her father and siblings drop at the dinner table. “He’s quiet but does his work,” they always say. “He doesn’t cause trouble and never smiles. A little creepy sometimes, honestly but nothing to complain about really.”

It’s so minimal that Komugi almost forgets that there is another presence on their farm during the day. But she also can’t help but feel that she is on the brink of _something_ ever since this person arrived, even though she doesn’t even know his name.

The seasons begin to pass as they always have. The fall months are easily slipping into winter winds then to blooming spring and finally to the scorching heat of summer. It quickly becomes one of the hottest summers they have ever had, though that doesn’t slow any of them down.

Komugi is heavily encouraged to not overexert herself and to stay inside as much as she can. However, that never prevents her from clumsily braiding her hair and tugging on the lightest fabric of dress she can feel from her closet. She also forgoes shoes, finding it much easier to stay cool that way.

On a particularly hot day, Komugi goes about her normal morning routine: waking at dawn, preparing the table for their minimal breakfast (which she is thrilled they can have now), clearing the table off, waiting until her family had all left, then finally stepping outside so the sun can press kisses to her face with its happy beams.

Komugi’s nose wrinkles. The dirt smears across her face in streaks of sweat that run over her neck and cheeks. It’s unpleasant and uncomfortable. However, if she doesn’t figure out how these pieces can work together, the whole foundation of her most beloved game idea will crumble before her. If this next game is a failure, then so is she. She cannot afford to fail.

She stays kneeling on the ground for hours, long after the sensitive skin on her nose started to pay the price of staying in direct sunlight. Dirt cakes her fingertips and particles build up beneath her fingernails as she draws the game board over and over. She memorizes the pattern of every square, gently patting to ensure the lines are clean and legible. In this little space, she can pretend that everything is where it’s supposed to be (including herself).

“What are you doing?”

Komugi startles, whipping around behind her to the strange and deep voice disrupting her thoughts. “U-uh, I’m…” She runs her fingers over the imprints she’s made. Thankfully, it doesn’t seem like she’s disrupted it. “I was trying to figure something out for my game.”

Silence.

Komugi’s heart pounds louder than any words the other person could have said. She slowly reaches for a rock she set aside earlier that day as she asks, “Who are you?”

For a few seconds, there is still no further answer. “I’m not going to harm you.”

“Are you going to make me go inside?” 

“No,” the person huffs. “Why would I?”

Komugi shrugs feebly, nerves draining from her heart. “Because my parents sent you? No one normally comes near the house in the middle of the day.”

“Your brother asked me to come get his sweat cloth. He refused to use anything else. That’s why I’m here.” He sounds annoyed, much to the intrigue of Komugi. The “quiet” worker is more willing to share than her family implied. “If you don’t want to go inside then don’t. You can do what you want regardless of your parents.”

Komugi’s brows furrow and she nibbles on her lip. This certainly wasn’t the conversation she expected to be having with her parent’s employee—in fact, she wasn’t expecting a conversation with anyone at all.

With her silence, the other person shifts on his feet. “You are the youngest daughter, am I right?” 

“A-ah!” Komugi bows her head slightly. She probably looks as sheepish as she feels, rubbing one dirty hand on the back of her neck and extending the other for him to shake. “How rude of me. I didn’t introduce myself. My name is Komugi. What’s yours?”

The stranger lapses into silence yet again. Finally, he utters, “Meruem.”

Tenderly, Meruem’s calloused palm slips into hers, fingers looping gently around her hand. The touch brings a strange kind of clarity to Komugi’s mind that she herself didn’t know she needed. _There you are,_ she thinks, much to her own confusion. At the same time, she opens her mouth to say, “Would you like to play a game with me?”

He squeezes her hand lightly, still not letting it go. “I have some time before they call me back.”

And as a warm thrill sweeps through her veins, a corner piece slots into place, as if it was always meant to be there—as if she was always meant to be _here._

Komugi directs him to his spot directly across from her but gives him a puzzled look when he doesn’t budge. Then slowly something presses atop her head and the harsh sun rays no longer beat down upon her singed nose. Komugi grasps at the object, catching onto Meruem’s hands yet again as she rubs her thumbs along the woven straw he’s settling on her head. The hat sinks down once he releases it, much too large for her small frame.

“Your face is burned,” Meruem informs her plainly. “Wear a hat next time.”

He stands up and begins to move where she previously directed him. “Wait, I can’t take this! What about you?”

“What about me?” His voice is a rich and surprisingly pleasant monotone.

Komugi’s face twists. “You could get burned too.”

A pause. “I’ve survived worse. I can go a day without my hat as long as you wear your own tomorrow.”

Komugi juts her jaw out in defiance. “No. We should at least move to the shade.”

Meruem hums and a slight breath escapes his nose in an imitation of laughter. He says nothing as he stands again. Komugi does the same and reaches for her walking stick with one hand and uselessly dusts her skirt with the other.

Together, they travel to what Komugi assumes is the side of their tall barn and find a proper patch of dirt for Komugi to draw in. With practiced movements she draws the game board, her finger gliding like a brush on her canvas. Meruem watches her intently, his gaze burns into her hand more than the sun’s rays ever did.

Once she’s done, she’s struck with the realization that she forgot her pieces at her previous spot. But as soon as Komugi opens her mouth, Meruem interrupts. “I grabbed the wood chips you had sitting beside your board.”

The pieces fall in front of her knees. Komugi counts to make sure all the game pieces are present and ready to be played. “Thank you. Oh! I forgot to ask, is it okay if I open my eyes?”

“Of course it is.”

“Really?”

“Is that surprising?”

Komugi chuckles, nudging the pieces into a row. “My siblings don’t like it. They say it’s scary and weird.”

“…I don’t mind it,” his voice comes out delicately. 

Komugi gives him a few more seconds to change his mind and takes her time lifting her eyelids to reveal her sightless irises. There’s no reaction Komugi can gauge from Meruem. And despite her trying not to look like a fool, she grins stupidly wide and releases a small giggle. “Are you ready?”

“Teach me.”

So, in the shade of a rickety barn, Komugi does just that and finds herself basking in the comfort of knowing at long last she has found what she’s been missing: 

_Home._

* * *

The next game she releases isn’t even hers. It’s _theirs._ It is the outcome of an unexpected bond blossoming into existence. It is the product of hours spent drenched in undeserved happiness and the ringing of two minds working in tandem. The game is called _Gungi._ And Komugi, despite not being the only creator, is unbelievably proud and truly content.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! As per usual, comments/kudos are very appreciated. Have a lovely day/evening and if you want to follow me, here's [my twitter](https://twitter.com/meettheroyalmes)


End file.
